


Morning Glory

by dorwinionwhining



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Family, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 05:36:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17115416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorwinionwhining/pseuds/dorwinionwhining
Summary: A mother and her children. For the briefest of moments, only a young mother and her little children.





	Morning Glory

**Author's Note:**

> I was thinking about Elwing and how terrible so many of the events of her life are, and how much I wish she got to have at least some moments like this. Less complicated and more at peace. Feedback is welcome! I would really appreciate any comments as well as anyone who leaves kudos. It brings me a lot of joy. Thank you!

It was a bright and clear morning, but under the cliffs the beach was cold and shadowed. Soon the sun would rise high enough to bring warmth and illumination to the sand and waves, brightening their hues from neutral beiges and grays into glittering golds and shimmering sapphires, but even now there was a kind of perfection in the starkness of the view.

Elwing might have to wrap her woolen shawl tight around her shoulders, and to her bare feet it felt as though she stood upon a soft block of ice, but she still smiled as she walked. 

Just far enough ahead of her to maintain an illusion of independence her little boys laughed and screamed as they ran out of the way of the water.

It was good, to be able to pretend for a little while that she was nothing more than a young mother minding her children, with no greater cares laid upon her than their safety as they played so close to the waves. The alertness she felt now, listening to their voices, was so much more bearable than that which she felt clawing at her during long hours of the night, when her mind torn itself apart attempting to untangle the political web her people were caught in.

Elwing looked up as Elrond crowed in sudden triumph, and she saw that Elros was soggy to the ankles.

“Not fair!” he shouted. “That doesn’t count!”

“It does too! I didn’t break any rules!” Elrond shouted back.

Elwing waited as the argument descended into silence, and the two of them strove, tiny mind against tiny mind. Elros broke first, letting out an overdramatic, wailing sigh. “Fine,” he declared with exaggerated petulance and a soft punch to his twin’s shoulder. Elrond grinned, victorious.

“Let’s go again,” he said.

Elros agreed, and another round of their game began.

Elwing shook her head and laughed to herself, quietly enough not to disturb them. She was glad that they were so well matched and kind in their understanding of each other. Rarely, those little spats would lead to true hurt and descend into tantrums, and when that happened it took much hard work on her part to set them to rights, especially since whichever one she chose to attend to second would be quick to cry favoritism, but on most occasions all would be resolved in minutes with no hard feelings between them.

Just her luck, she thought, being blessed with easy children after being cursed to raise them alone.

She turned towards the sea, thinking longingly of her husband. But after only a moment she gathered up the tangled bundle of her feelings for him and pushed it away, as though by doing so she could send it to him, far out amongst the waves. His road was a perilous one, with only a tenuous thread of hope to guide him, and fiercely she wished at times that it was not his to sail, that he might set it aside for some other and walk with her now upon these shores with their sons.

She turned back, and Elrond ran up to her.

His ankles were soggy now too, and that drew her instantly from her melancholy back to mirth.

“Mama,” he said shyly.

“What is it?” she asked, smiling down at him.

He wrapped a fist around a fold in her skirt, and said, “Elros wants to look for ‘nemones.”

His silver eyes were wide and solemn, and Elwing glanced up to make sure Elros hadn’t already taken off for the rocks. When she spotted him, fidgeting but with his feet still planted firmly in the sand, she smiled again and replied, “That sounds like great fun. Let us go together.”

Elrond nodded happily and peeled his fist from her skirt in order to take her hand.

Elros fussed preemptively as they drew up beside him, but Elwing tugged a lock of his fine hair, tucking it behind his ear, and told him, “You don’t need to hold my hand the whole way, but could you when we reach the rocks? It’s vey slippery, and I haven’t climbed them in many years.”

Elros looked up at her skeptically. “Okay,” he said at last. “But I know it’s ‘cause you’re worried about me and not yourself.”

Elwing froze, mouth open, for a single moment before she threw her head back. Bright, helpless laughter poured out of her at this show of intelligence and audacity from her little boy, and just then the sun peaked at last over the cliffs, shooting a fine beam of golden light out across the sun.


End file.
